Proposals
by Slightly2Loud
Summary: Submit the pairing you want to read the most and I'll write one of those super-fluffy proposal fics involving them! Or at least, I'll try... Still taking requests!
1. GerIta

**Listen, guys, I was thinking about it and I realised that there are barely ANY proposal scenes for pairings on fanfiction. You know, there are confession scenes, drabbles, and even wedding scenes, but NO PROPOSALS! This made me sad, because I love proposals (I show up at weddings I'm not invited to sometimes) so I thought I might write some! The thing is, I don't know what couples you guys like, so you need to tell me what couples you want to see. There are only a few rules:**

**1) I will not take anything with Sealand, Latvia or Liechtenstein for obvious reasons. (hint: They're kids!)**

**2) I will also not take Itacest, Germacest, Americest or any incest pairing I've forgotten. However, stuff like Spamano, UsUk, and Franada don't count, because they're technically not blood-related. Not my fault, I'm just abiding by marriage rules here.**

**3) Finally, I will not take OC pairings, because I don't know any of your OCs well enough.**

**I'm going to start off with my own OTP, GerIta. Because they are so adorable, I could scream. Ciao!**

* * *

"So, Germany, then Romano told Spain that he was going to burn the entire tomato garden if he didn't-," the Italian babbled excited, relating his brother's latest drama queen fit to Germany. Germany watched, nodding every now and then, but his thoughts were on something completely different; the little black box in his pocket.

The night had gone surprisingly well; Italy had eaten the biggest plate of spaghetti he could order, and hadn't spilt it all down his front and he had actually dressed up well, in white jeans, a white shirt and a plum waistcoat. He looked completely gorgeous, and every girl in the restaurant had turned around to stare at him. Italy had ignored them all, though, having only eyes for Germany.

The waitress who had taken them to their seats and taken their orders would have made for a very good friend of Hungary's; she smiled when she saw them together and talked to Italy as she walked through the restaurant to their table.

"So, handsome here taking you out for a meal, or are you paying?" she asked, and Italy went pink.

"He's paying," he mumbled. "And he is handsome, isn't he?" He smiled fondly.

"Totally," said the chatty waitress. "You two are adorable together! How long've you been a couple for?"

"Um, two years?" said Italy, turning round to confirm it with Germany, who nodded.

"Lovely. So what's your name?"

"It- Feliciano," Italy corrected himself. "And this is Ludwig."

They were now walking down the strand, hand in hand. They'd got quite a few looks; a few people had scoffed and scowled, a few had looked the other direction, and one group of girls started grinning and squealing and making love hearts with their hands. Germany had smiled a little at that; it was a bit annoying, but it was nice to know that some people accepted them, while most of the world didn't.

Italy's hand was warm and small, and fitted perfectly inside the German's. Germany watched as he spoke, his perfect lips moving so fast it would be impossible to stop them. His browny-red hair was messed up from the sea air, except for that one curl that stuck out from the side. Germany remembered the time that, wondering what on earth the thing was, he pulled the curl sharply when Italy was talking too much. The curl was particularly useful when Italy was being stubborn…

Germany shook his head. _Not now! Mein gott, you're about to propose to him! You don't have time to think about anything else! What are you even going to say?_

"Italy?" he asked, and the man turned around.

"Yes, Doitsu?" he said, his usual perfect, innocent self.

"I- I'm not quite sure how to do this, but I thought doing it in public would be better, because that will show the world how much I love you," he said slowly.

"Do what?" asked Italy, confused, and Germany got down on one knee.

At that moment, a few things happened. The entire strand stood still; the people walking froze, the teenagers who were chatting stopped, and everyone turned to look at the couple. Italy froze and brought a hand up over his open mouth, his amber eyes big. Germany took a deep breath and began.

"Feliciano Veneziano Vargas," he began, taking hold of the Italian's free hand. "I love you with every bone in my body. You are the most beautiful thing on this planet, in my opinion, and every morning when I wake up, I thank God for making you mine. I love your smile, your laugh, your personality; I love everything about you, everything that makes you _you. _I want to wake up every morning and see you next to me, to come home from work every day and find you there, to have you in my life forever. Because the truth is Feli, without you I have no life. You're all I live for now."

Here Germany stopped and put a hand into his pocket and pulled out a little black box, and Italy's eyes widened even more. The German opened it to show a simple gold ring, which he took out and held in trembling fingers.

"So, Feliciano," he said, looking up to meet the Italian's eyes. "Will you marry me?"

Italy nodded, still in shock, and Germany slipped the ring on his finger. As soon as it was on, he took his hand away from his mouth and smiled. Germany stood up, and Italy immediately pulled him forwards, pressing his lips against his fiancé's. Germany pulled Italy closer to him, and they broke apart not for air, but because they suddenly realised that everyone was watching.

As soon as they broke apart, a cheer was heard from the opposite side of the strand walkway. They turned, still in each other's arms, to see the girls from earlier. The tallest girl, with short ginger hair, was clapping. As she clapped, her friends joined in too, and then the group of boys next to them, and then the crowd inside the coffee shop, and then everyone else. Italy grinned, and Germany smiled too. Hand in hand, they turned and walked off to their car.

"Doitsu?" Italy asked, as they reached the car.

"Ja?"

"You know what you said back there? About how I'm so beautiful and your reason for living, and all that stuff?"

"Ja?"

"You do mean it, right?" he asked, his face falling a bit.

Germany turned to look at him, taking his perfect face in his hands. For a moment, they simply stared into each other's eyes, amber into blue, until Germany spoke.

"With all my heart," he said softly, pulling Italy towards him till their lips met.

* * *

**Well? If you liked it review with the name of your OTP (or just some random pairing you want to see) and I will try and write something as cheesy as that story! When I write GerIta, it just ends up as pure cheese, or fluff, or whatever. Sorry…**

**The stories I will probably write best, because I ship the pairings, are GerIta, UsUk, Rochu, Giripan, PruAus (although I can write PruCan when forced), Franada (if I concentrate), SuFin, DenNor and my all-time favourite, Spamano. However, I'm growing to like Iceland/Hong Kong (don't know the name) more by the moment. And you guys can submit what you want really.**

**Review guys, this is only here for you!**


	2. Author's Note

**OK, guys, just a little note here.**

**I really wasn't expecting so many requests! Thank you guys! That really made my day!**

**So, I was pretty surprised at the things you guys wanted. It seems like you found my diary and read my list of pairings I hate the most, because you have almost all of them up there. However, I know what it's like when you actually take the time to request something and it's not written. It's REALLY annoying.**

**So, I cheated! I was chatting to my friend Zoe on Facebook, and she told me that she'd write the stories that I absolutely couldn't write, because I either despise the pairing, or I just think it makes no sense. She's mainly pairing-neutral; she hates FrUK and adores USUK, but everything else she's mainly neutral to. And when my friend Rawan gets back from her stay in Turkey, I will ask her to write the ones that me and Zoe can't do.**

**I will tell you, before you read a story, who it's written by, so that you don't get confused at why the writing style is so different. If the sentences are mainly short, there's a lot of the character talking to themselves and the dialogue is American, then that's probably Zoe writing. If the sentences are long, and it's mainly talking and actions, not descriptions, then that's probably Rawan writing. And if the sentences are varied, and there are five-paragraph long descriptions (yeah, I'm afraid I do that a lot) and a bunch of cheesy romance scenes, that's probably me writing. **

**I've sort of split it up like this, but I'll tell you if any changes are made:**

**Me**

**PruHun, LietPol, SPAMANO!, SuFin, DenNor, Romerica and FrUK.**

**(The only reason I am doing the last two is that Romerica will be a real challenge, something I need right now, and Zoe refuses to do FrUK. I hate it too, but I guess I'll have to try…)**

**Zoe**

**NetCan, DenSu, RomTai **

**(Guys, relax. She's a superb writer.)**

**Undecided (aka, I will force Rawan to write when she gets back)**

**AmeChi, AmeBel, RusAme**

**(So these ones might take a while to be written. I'm sorry, but I can't write RusAme to save my life, and neither can Zoe.)**

**So, there ya go! The chapters will be named after the pairings, so you can skip to the ones you requested. I hope to get most of them done by the end of the month, but because I have no internet asides from my half-hour a day, they probably won't be very well researched. Prepare for some extreme fluff!**

**x Rachel**


	3. FrUK

**Guys, it killed me to write this, so you'd better be grateful. As an USUK fan, I almost couldn't write this. In fact, the only reason I wrote it was that the girl who requested it was so polite. Here you go – FrUK.**

**x Rachel**

"Angleterre!"

England refused to turn around, still walking. No way was he falling for it again. No way on God's green earth was he letting that French jerk break his heart again.

"England! Arthur!"

England stopped in his tracks upon hearing his real name called. It wasn't often that France called him by his human name. He preferred to call him 'Angleterre', or one of his various adoring nicknames, like 'cherie' and 'mi amor'. He never called him Arthur.

England turned around, still blazing, before he saw France. His expression immediately changed upon seeing the Frenchman's face; tears were streaming down his face, his face one of pain. England softened slightly. He'd never seen France like this. The man stumbled forward, until he was right in front of England, who stood tight-lipped and angry, his arms crossed.

"Please, Angleterre, listen to me," pleaded France, before England interrupted him again.

"No. Why should I?" he yelled, pushing his lover – no, _ex-_lover – away from him. "You'll just lie to me again. That's what you do best, isn't it? Lie."

France crumpled here, a fresh set of tears falling from his blue eyes.

"Please Arthur, it wasn't like that," he said, pulling on England's sleeve to make sure he couldn't leave. England stood still, indicating that he would listen. How did he do that? All he had to do was say England's name in that adorable accent of his, and he was forgiven for everything. Well, not this time. England would listen, but that was it. Then he'd leave. He wasn't falling for it again.

France began to speak. "I swear, Angleterre, it isn't what you think. Yes, I did kiss him, but it didn't mean anything. It wasn't anything. He already has a boyfriend, and I already have – well, had – a boyfriend too. We were only messing about. I love _you, _Angleterre, no-one else, and I'll never love anyone else the way I love you. Please?" France looked up at England, only having to tilt his head a little because the Englishman wasn't much taller than himself, baby-blue eyes big.

England looked back at him, a thousand and one emotions flickering through his head.

_He loves you, moron, don't be such a PMS-y bitch!_

_Get back at him! Kiss America, or someone. That'll show him._

_Bloody hell, why is he so goddamn cute all the time? _

_He's lying. He'll just ditch you again. Don't fall for it._

The last thought stuck in England's brain longer than the others. France had lied to him before, cheated on him more times than England could count. Why should he trust him?

"Why should I trust you, of all people?" said England, voicing his feelings in a monotone. "How do I know you're not just lying to me? How do I know you'll keep your word?"

France hesitated for a moment, and England saw a look of worry in his eyes. That was all he needed. He turned on his heel and walked off. He hadn't gone far before he felt a hand on his arm. He turned around, scowling, but France didn't let go.

"Angleterre, I was waiting for later to do this, but…" he trailed off, fumbling inside his pocket for something with his free hand. England watched, curious, forgetting his earlier anger, until France pulled out a little velvet box. His eyes widened as France knelt down on one knee on the pavement, moving his hand so it was clenched around England's. The people who had been trying to make their way around the couple now stopped, watching the scene.

"Arthur Kirkland," began France, his voice a little shaky from his tears. "I know I'm not the perfect boyfriend. In fact, I'm not the perfect anything, except flirt. It always amazes me that you're still with me, that you've stood by me all this time. It either means you're delusional, or the best boyfriend in the world. I don't deserve you, Arthur, but that doesn't mean I'll ever stop loving you.

"But we keep having these fights, and one day you'll walk off and leave me for good, I know it. But I can't lose you, Arthur. I'd die, I know I would. I've got to make sure that no matter what stupid things I do, you'll always be with me, to pick up the pieces and tell me it's all okay. I will always need you, cherie. I love you."

Here France stopped, and opened the box to show a simple silver ring.

"So, Arthur," he said slowly, looking up at England anxiously. "Will you marry me?"

England was absolutely sure he'd died of shock three times while France was speaking. His brain was still processing the fact that France was on his knee, with a _ring, _asking England to marry him. All the thought had changed into one singular question:

_What?_

_What?_

_What?_

_What?_

But one tiny feeling bubbled to the surface, different from the others, small, but the one that England needed right now.

_Say yes._

And so, still completely frozen, England nodded, and replied, in a voice so low only France could hear him, 'Yes.'

France's face changed into a huge grin, and he slipped the ring onto England's finger, discarding the box and pulling him into a kiss that England returned immediately. They broke apart, smiling, and hugged each other tightly, until England realised that they were blocking up the entire path. He pulled France to the side, and the Frenchman pulled him into his arms, still grinning.

"Je t'aime, Angleterre," he whispered.

England laughed. "I love you too, frog."

**Holy shit. I actually wrote FrUK. And included a kiss. I'm so ashamed of myself. I'm going to go hide in a corner… Or maybe get started on the LietPol. YAY POLAND!**


	4. LietPol

**Ciao! You guys all seemed excited about this (me too! LietPol forever!) so I got right on it. Keep reviewing, and not just to request. Pressure makes me work faster!**

**x Rachel**

"Liet! You're taking hours! How long does it take to, like, put on a bow-tie?"

Lithuania laughed, and, straightening his tie one more time, came down the stairs. Standing at the bottom of them were Hungary, Austria, Japan, Greece and a bundle of others…

…And Poland.

He was chatting to Latvia now, loud and cheerful as usual. His blonde hair was pinned back by two pink hairclips so his deep green eyes were clearly visible. He was wearing a pink polo shirt and jeans, which Lithuania would have laughed at, had there not been so many people in the room. Poland was fond of cross-dressing, and had more dresses, skirts and blouses in his wardrobe than shirts and jeans. It was sometimes a bit embarrassing, Lithuania found, when they went to the cinema or out walking together, and people cooed at 'the cute brunette and his little girlfriend'. In fact, when he had actually come out, America had pointed out, 'Dude, with a boyfriend like Poland you didn't even have to come out; you still pass as straight.'

Still, it was cute to see Poland actually listening to Lithuania for once and wearing gender-suited clothes. It wasn't like he didn't look good in a skirt, because he totally did, but more to do with the fact that it was a little awkward to have to explain that your partner was, actually, a guy. When, for example, Japan and Greece went out (although that was rare, both of them being complete homebirds) people could always tell that they were both guys. It was kind-of frustrating having to explain to every waitress they had that Poland wasn't a girl. Coming out once was hard enough.

Poland turned around, and spotted Lithuania on the stairs. "Liet!" he beamed. "Come on, we were waiting for you!"

Lithuania grinned, and ran down the stairs. He jumped off at the bottom, and hugged Poland tightly.

"You look great," he whispered into his ear.

Poland pulled a face. "I totally would have preferred this, like, wicked pink dress that Hungary bought for me, but never mind."

They all bundled into the car, a silver stretch limousine that they had all chipped in to buy. It was Lithuania's birthday, and they had all decided that he deserved something nice for once. America and Poland had brought up the issue in the last World Meeting, and everyone had agreed. Lithuania had never felt happier; this was all he wanted, to spend his birthday with his friends, and Poland. He still had one more thing he needed to do though, concerning the little black box in his pocket. He'd wait for later for that.

They arrived at the ballrooms, piling out of the car in a complete jumble.

"Ouch! Who stood on my foot?"

"America, stop being such a bloody drama queen!"

"Angleterre, move your derrière out of my face!"

"Shut it, frog!"

The ballrooms looked lovely; they hadn't been able to reserve them, but that was okay. No-one minded the extra company, or at least, no-one said anything. Italy danced every dance, pulling on everyone to dance with him, excited and flushed. He danced to 'We No Speak Americano' with Romano, and they were exceptionally good. France, Prussia and Spain danced a mixture of random, unfitting dances; a cancan for France, a tango for Spain, and a very badly danced mess of footsteps for Prussia (?). Poland, Hungary and Latvia did a remake of 'Walk Like an Egyptian', and Lithuania had to cover his mouth not to laugh at Poland standing on one leg waving his arms in the air. All in all, it was great fun.

At about 11 o'clock, Poland sat down from dancing to P!nk, and turned to face Lithuania.

"This is fun, right Liet? Are you enjoying your birthday yet?" he giggled, and Lithuania made up his mind silently.

"Poland, can I talk to you outside?" he asked quietly, and Poland, confused, nodded and stood up. They both walked outside to the garden.

"What is it, Liet?" he asked anxiously, his green eyes big. Lithuania took in a deep breath, let it out, and knelt down on one knee. Poland's mouth fell open.

"Feliks Łukasiewicz," began Lithuania. "I love you. So, so much. I love your optimism, your cheerful attitude to everything, the way you act all tough and then sleep with me when you have nightmares. I love the way you smile, and your face lights up; I always know you mean it when you say things and smile, because your smile is so real. You're the tiny bit of hope in my life every day, even when things go horribly wrong. I just have to phone you, and you come over right away, and one hug and kiss and everything's all right again.

"But I want to wake up every morning, look over, and see you next to me, nightmare or none. I want to be able to go out with you, to hold your hand and have people know that I love you so much I'll stay with you forever. I want to love you for ever."

Here Lithuania stopped, and pulled out the little black box from his pocket.

"I promise, Feliks, if you say yes, it'll be the best birthday present of my life. You're all I'll ever want. Will you marry me?" he asked, looking up into Poland's huge, bright emerald eyes. Poland grinned.

"Liet, would I ever say anything else but yes?" he laughed, leaning down to kiss Lithuania softly on the lips, before pulling him onto his feet. The two kissed, before pulling apart and smiling at each other.

"Hey, Liet?" asked Poland as they walked back, hand-in-hand.

"Uh-huh?"

"Does this mean I get to wear a dress?"

**Oh, Poland. Of course you can wear a dress**. **We wouldn't have it any other way. Just make sure we're invited to that wedding!**

**Next up on the agenda is *checks list* PruHun! Get excited, everyone! (How am I going to write this? I SHIP PRUAUS! Oh, wait, they can still hear me… Oops…)**

**Guys, try not to request more than one pairing. I'm trying to keep up, but it's hard! Don't worry, though, I can do it. **

**Review, and request!**


	5. SuFin

**Ciao!**

**Okay, guys, I couldn't do it. The PruHun, I mean. But I will get it done eventually, promise. SuFin was so much easier.**

**Anyway, an explanation. Someone asked for a SuFin story, and someone asked for a FinSu, so I played about with some ideas for a bit, and came up with this. It feels so good to actually produce this, because I'm so horribly behind on requests. Not sure how good it is. I'm not going through a SuFin phase at the moment, I'm going through a Giripan phase, so I'm not at my best. DenNor, Giripan, Franada and GerIta are my specialties at the moment. Don't ask.**

**x Rachel**

* * *

He'd been planning this for months now, and yet he still felt unsure about it.

Sweden paced the room, fumbling with the box in his pocket. What was there to be unsure about? He loved Finland. Too much, probably. There was nothing he wouldn't do for the Finn when he batted those long black eyelashes of those. When he was injured in a fight, Sweden would be at his side immediately, holding his fragile little lover to his chest protectively. He was beautiful, cheerful, friendly; he was like Sweden's other half, everything the Swede wasn't.

So this was the right thing to do, right?

But… what if he said no?

_He won't say that, Sve, _he told himself. _He loves you, remember?_

Sweden scowled. Maybe Finland loved him, but it was common knowledge he was hard to live with. He'd heard Poland gossiping that Finland was mad to stay with him. And maybe he was right. He was grouchy, silent, antisocial, and definitely not half as gorgeous as Finland. But whenever he told Finland this, the Finn would just smile, and say, 'But I love you, Sve. Surely that counts for something?'

Still, love only went so far. Maybe this was a bad idea…

"Berwald!" called a voice from downstairs. "The cab's here!"

Oh, screw it. Sweden pocketed the box, and hurried downstairs, still doing up his tie in the process. He tripped over the last step and fell forward, only to be caught by a pair of thin arms. He stood up, and smiled down at Finland, who smiled back.

"Shall we go?" he asked, and Sweden nodded.

They stepped into the cab together, and Finland chatted to the taxi driver in fluent Swedish, an impressive feat; he'd only been taking classes for two years, and skipped out whenever he was feeling down. When they arrived at the restaurant, Finland leaped out, and Sweden was left to pay for the taxi. He handed over the money.

"That your boyfriend?" asked the driver, and Sweden nodded proudly.

"Wish ya the best o' luck," he said cheerfully, before dropping Sweden off and pulling away.

The meal went along splendidly. Finland had wanted to eat foreign food, and Sweden had suggested a local Mandarin restaurant, which Finland had loved the sound of. Sweden watched, amused, as Finland dug into a plate of sweet and sour prawns, talking happily with his mouth full.

"'n th'n R'ssia go' a b't m'd a' m'," he said, finishing off his story about his day. "Wh't 'bout y'u, Ber?"

"Y' s'nd like m'," Sweden chuckled, and Finland laughed, and swallowed his rice. "I h'd a g'd day."

"Good," smiled Finland. "Good."

He looked a little distant, Sweden noticed, eating whilst staring out the window as if he was thinking hard about something. He still looked beautiful, though, his eyes half closed calmly, a slight hint of a smile dusted over his lips.

Sweden practised what he was going to say over in his head, wanting to make it absolutely perfect. Because, in all honesty, Finland didn't deserve any less.

They finished their meal, and walked through the park together. Finland pointed out things that no-one else would ever notice, like how the bird in the tree was carrying a silver ring, and the little girl on the bench was humming 'Sweetest Thing', stuff that didn't really strike Sweden as odd, but he loved to hear about. It was adorable how Finland got excited over such tiny, meaningless things.

They walked all the way to the top of the hill, and stood there, hand-in-hand, watching the city below. Maybe this was the moment, Sweden thought, turning to face Finland.

But just then, Finland took his hand away and dropped down on one knee.

"Ber, I was going to wait and let you do this, but you're taking too long," he said, perfectly matter-of-fact. "So I decided just to do it myself."

He reached down to his coat pocket and pulled out a box, with a gold ring inside.

"You're always so worried about us," he said softly. "You keep telling me that maybe I'd be better off without you, but I can tell from your eyes that you don't want that. And the thing is, Ber, I don't want that either. And I can't think of any way to get you to understand that better than this. Will you marry me?" His eyes were big as he said the last words, anxious.

"T'no, c'n ya st'nd up?" Sweden asked, and Finland stood up. The gigantic nation leaned down and swallowed Finland up in a huge hug, squeezing him tightly before letting him go.

"Yes," he said happily. "I luv ya, T'no."

As they walked down to the car, smiling secretly, Sweden turned to Finland, now wearing the ring, and pulled a box out of his pocket. Finland's eyes widened.

"Ber?"

"Th'r ya go," said Sweden gruffly, taking the ring out and slipping it onto Finland's finger. "I w's g'nna ask ya t'night, b't yu did 't bett'r."

Finland smiled, pleased, and kissed Sweden on the cheek. "I love you, Ber."

* * *

**I know you're all majorly pissed off at me right now and I know I keep grumbling, but you can still request! (Hope this was what the FinSu fan who requested it was expecting… Review and tell me, please!)**

**Review, favourite, follow, request, whatever!**


	6. AmeChi

**Ciao!**

**Hey guys! I'm back! Well, not really. This is my totally awesome best friend Zoe's story! I pestered her for a long time about this, and eventually she stopped procrastinating and wrote it. It took an even longer time to get her to send it to me… But in the end it was worth it, because I love RoChu too much to write a AmeChi fic. WAY too much.**

**I hope you like it, and if you do, Zoe's account is at the bottom.**

**x Rachel**

America's style was always all or nothing.

Part of it was due to his issue with reading the atmosphere. It's not that he couldn't, per say, it was that he usually chose not to. Sometimes it got him into _really_ big trouble. His marriage proposal was just one of those times...

China and America had been steadily dating for about two decades. They had their share of fights, like any normal couple had, some even said that they bickered like an old married couple, except for the fact that they weren't married.

And it's not that America and China _didn't_ want to get married, it was that they couldn't. A marriage between countries also had to also be accepted by their respective boss, and as of right now they weren't on great terms.

America didn't really care.

* * *

"Yo, China!" America said running towards China in the parking lot. A G8 meeting had just ended and China had driven over to pick America up. China turned and faced the incoming country. As he approached, China quickly kissed him before opening the car door, gesturing for America to get in.

China got in the driver's seat and started on the way home. There was a silence that America couldn't help but breaking.

"So, you still on for tonight?" He asked, turning around to face China.

"What do you mean, aru?" Chine asked, momentarily taking his eyes off the road to glance at America.

"You know, the date we had planned?" America asked, turning his head to the side slightly, confused.

"What date, aru!?" China asked, swerving slightly.

"You know, the one I..." A pause. "Ohh," America said, realizing his mistake. China looked at America somewhat expectantly and somewhat with his 'What-have-you-done-now?'. Yeah. China had a specific face for it.

"So during the meeting today I had this totally awesome idea that we could go on a date to that new restaurant that opened up, so in the middle of the meeting I made reservations over my phone. I _thought_ I texted you, but I guess that was the point where Germany caught me not paying attention so I couldn't send the message." America shrugged. He even brought out his phone and proved that the message was saved but not sent.

China seemed to relax a fraction before realizing exactly what America had said. "That new restaurant? The one that is really popular are you can barely get into, aru?"

America nodded. "The very same."

China gave America another kiss before concentrating on the road again.

* * *

America was standing outside of China's house in a blue suit, complete with flowing jacket and a little velvet box hidden on the inside of his coat pocket. He knocked on the door to be answered with an 'I'll be right there, aru!'

China came out moments later in a somewhat matching blue suit complete with a small hat. His suit had a slightly fancier coat, but, like all his other clothes, China's clothes still seemed to be too big for him and still covered his hands.

"All ready?" America asked when China locked the door behind him. China answered with a nod. America kissed China to be answered with a 'Get a room, da-ze!' from one of the nearby houses. America and China took that as their cue to leave and get in the car.

By the time America and China got to the fancy restaurant, it was packed full. There was even a line outside of other couples waiting to get in.

"I thought you said that you had reservations, aru!" China protested.

"No problem," America reassured. He took China to the direct front of the line.

"S'cuse me, sir, but you're going to have to move to the back of the line," the man at the front said. He looked like one of those bodyguards that you see in movies with a black suit and sun glasses though it was already dark outside.

At that America reached into his suit pocket and got out what seemed like two tickets. America handed them to the 'bodyguard' so quickly that China could only catch a glimpse of what seemed like the letters 'V.I.P'.

The man nodded and gestured for one of his colleagues to lead them into the restaurant, off to a somewhat secluded area where there were only about four people sitting and eating.

"How did you manage to get such an expensive area, aru?" China asked once they were sat down.

"Eh... When you know people... It gets easier," America replied with a smile.

China shook his head. "No, no, I mean how did you _afford_ it? You still own me a crap ton of money, aru!"

"Aww," America pouted and stuck out his lower lip jokingly, "are you saying that this doesn't pay off? At least for some of it?"

"Hm... No," China said, but he was smiling nonetheless.

"Oh well, guess I'll just have to work it off," America said as he leaned over the table and kissed China.

"That was delicious, thank you, America, aru," China said.

"Anything for you, China," America said.

"This is probably the best date we have had yet, thank you again, aru," China said.

America just smirked and said, "It's about to get a lot better."

America quickly assessed his surroundings, there was nobody around except for a man the opposite side of the room eating dinner by himself. Good, nobody he knew was out here so they couldn't call him out on what was possibly the cheesiest thing he'd ever done.

China eyed America as America knelt down below him. America felt inside his coat and... ah ha, there it was.

America took out the velvet box and presented it to China.

"China, People's Republic of China, Wang Yao, _whatever_ you want me to call you," America started, noticing surprise in China's eyes, opened the box to reveal a gold ring. "Will you do me a favor by becoming my awesome husband-wife thing?"

America internally flinched at his own words. _'Man, that could have gone soooo much better'_ he thought.

But China pulled America up and wrapped him and a tight hug and murmured into his shoulder, with was what still embarrassingly loud, 'Yes!'

America was planning to say something but before he could say anything he felt a tap on his shoulder. America loosened his grip on China and whipped his head around. Who better to be standing behind him, than his own boss? You know, the one who would do almost anything to prevent this very scene from happening?

"America! What exactly are you doing?!" He asked. If this was a cartoon, America's boss would probably be steaming from the ears. "WHAT did I tell you about staying away from that noodle eating, plastic drinking, rice hat wearing son-of-a-"

"Boss! Boss, calm down!" America put his hands up defensively. "Get in the car, I'll be right there." He whispered to China and China was off.

"You, young sir, are in _so_ much trouble!" America's boss yelled.

"Hey! I thought I established that I wasn't a kid anymore! Don't you remember? I had a whole episode and THEN some!" America argued back.

"Wait, what? An epi- Hey! Where are you going?!" America's boss yelled. While America had temporarily confused his boss, he made a run for it.

America climbed in the car. China was already in there.

"Drive, drive, drive!" America rapidly shot at China. That was, until he realized he was in the driver's seat. Oops.

As America drove away, he rolled down his window and shouted out at his furious boss, "I'll take whatever punishment you give me! Just let me have tonight!"

"Well, at least that was... somewhat... taken care of," America said to China as he rolled his window back up.

"Ugh, I'm going to have to deal with my boss, too, aru," China complained. "At least one good thing came out of this evening, aru."

America raised an eyebrow. China sighed at his reaction.

"You Western countries can be so stupid at times," China said as he grabbed America by the shirt. "You're mine and no one can take you away, aru." China pulled America into a deep kiss.

"H-Hey! No seducing me yet, I'm driving," America joked when they pulled apart. China couldn't help but laugh.

**Zoe's A/N: So… yeah. AmeChi. What can I say? Ahhh, why was this so difficult to write though I kinda like this pairing? Oh well. Why did editing and proof reading this take longer than writing the initial thing? And poor China, as his boss is a dragon and not a human. I'd hate to face an angry dragon, though I could relate it to Rachel when I tell her I did something and then just put off sending it to her :3**

**Rachel's A/N: PruAus up next, guys! And if you can, check out Zoe's account at ThatOneHero. She wrote an awesome, sorta Olympics-based Spamano story for me on there, and this is my way of paying her off: free advertising.**

**Keep requesting, keep reviewing, keep faving! See ya next time!**


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